


Some day

by MissSlothy



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Comfort Sex, Hurt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-17 06:40:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16511222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSlothy/pseuds/MissSlothy
Summary: Set after Danny comes back from Colombia (Season 5 Episode 4).Over the years Danny and Steve have come to an understanding - they offer each other the comfort they need.





	Some day

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the October Comfort Fest. Unfortunately real life and my muse - which is addicted to angst - took over so it's a bit late.
> 
> Story is written from Steve's POV.
> 
> UK English. Un-betad. It's rated mature for sexual content.

Steve closes his front door behind him.  He switches on the table lamp.  In the distance he can hear the waves hitting the beach.  They’re loud, even through the insulation of the glass panel doors.  They’ve had blue skies all day but there’s a weather front moving into the islands.  It’s going to be a stormy night.

The weather suits his mood.  Dark.  Wary.  Anxious.  His skin’s prickling with the last vestiges of adrenaline.  But he’s so tired he could fall asleep where he stands.  It’s like he’s being torn in two: his need to sleep versus his need to run. 

A storm would be a welcome relief.  There’s pressure building up inside him.  It needs to go somewhere.

It’s not new, this feeling.  Back in the day Freddie would have known what to do.  But Freddie’s dead and he’s back home, facing the shadows alone.

“Get a grip,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head.  It might have been a long week but that’s no excuse for maudlin thoughts.  _Danny’s back home_ , he reminds himself as he heads for the kitchen.  His plan worked. 

He opens the fridge, illuminating the kitchen.  Grabbing a Longboard, he closes the door.  Rolling the cool beer bottle in his hands he closes his eyes.  He shouldn’t have had to think up a plan.  Danny should never have been in Colombia.  Back in the day he wouldn’t have let something like that happen to someone in his team.

_Shouldn’t. Never. Wouldn’t._ He runs the words through his mind, grimacing at the bitter taste of them. 

With a grunt of anger he flicks the top off the beer and heads for the living room.  He considers switching on the lights, settles for turning on the TV instead.  It lights up, throwing shadows across the wall.  He sits on the couch.

The beer bottle dangles between his knees, untouched.

He frowns.  The TV’s on a nature channel.  It’s not one he’s familiar with.  His brain backpedals through the last week and he smiles.  Grace.  Danny had brought Grace over to help with a homework assignment.  They’d ended up watching a program about dolphins.

Had that really only been the day before Danny had been arrested by the CIA?

His smile disappears.  He mutes the TV.  The sound of his nails tapping the beer bottle disrupt the sudden silence.  

His mind flashes back to the moment he’d told Grace about Danny being arrested.  The memory is so real; he can feel her trembling in his arms.  Grace shouldn’t had to go through that.   No kid should have to face losing a parent.

Joe. Doris. They could’ve helped stop this before it started.  Damn it – _he_ should have stopped it.  One bullet and he could have killed Reyes.  Danny wouldn’t have had that on his conscience.

He’d known though - when they’re entered Reyes’ bunker – what he was going to let Danny do.  Sometimes _you_ have to be the one pulling the trigger.  To protect your family, your friends; you have to be the one who delivers the killer blow.

The beer bottle wobbles dangerously as he slams it on the coffee table.  Slumping back onto the couch, he stares at the ceiling. 

_Shouldn’t. Never. Wouldn’t._

The words buzz inside his head, demanding to be heard.  Their frantic pace matches the adrenaline still crawling under his skin.  Exhaustion wins the battle though: gradually his eyes slide closed. 

H50H50H50

_‘You do what you gotta do, buddy, to stay alive.  You know that.’_

Steve jerks back to consciousness.  Blinking, he struggles to focus in the half-light.

He’d been dreaming.  Remembering.  A motel somewhere in California.  1970’s style wallpaper and stained carpet.  Freddie sprawled naked beside him on the bed.  The air thick with the smell of sweat and cigarette smoke. 

Rubbing at his eyes with his fingertips doesn’t make the image go away.  Cursing, he struggles to his feet.  He curses again when his knee hits the coffee table, taking the beer bottle with it.  Grabbing it, he tilts it upright but the room’s already filling with the smell of beer.

He’s halfway to the kitchen to grab a dishcloth when a noise stops him.  It’s not the sound of rain hitting the windows like tiny pebbles; he’s so used to that he’d zoned it out.  Someone’s knocking on the front door.

Tiredness is instantly forgotten as adrenaline shoves it out of the way.  Staying in the shadows he looks out of the window but whoever’s there is in front of the door, out of view.  Padding over to the table by the front door he opens the drawer and retrieves his spare gun. He flicks off the safety, checks the clip.  Inhaling and exhaling deeply, he waits for his heart rate to calm.  Then, using the door for cover, he opens it – slowly.

His heartbeat climbs, taking his breath away.  Danny’s standing outside.  The lanai’s sheltering him now but his hair’s plastered to his head, his damp clothes clinging to his body.  The bruises and swelling on his face are accentuated by the shadows.  He looks awful.

“What you doing here?” are the words that come out of Steve’s mouth and he hates himself.  The words are too blunt, too raw, not what he means at all.  He’d left Danny with Grace at Rachel’s.  It’s where Danny had wanted – had _needed_ – to be.

Danny stares at the ground as Steve moves aside to let him in, his whole body hunkering down as he comes to a halt in the living room.  “Gracie, she’s good,” he says, still looking at his shoes.  “She’s asleep and I…I figured…”

“Danny.”

Danny looks up and Steve’s heart plummets.  The pain and confusion in his eyes are more eloquent than any words.

Danny looks away.  He starts pacing, his hands doing some of the talking for him.  “Rachel said I could stay…but you know how it is…me and her…”  He pauses, takes a shuddering breath, starts pacing again.  “I couldn’t…she doesn’t do well with…I get it…I do…so I got a cab.”

Steve tampers down the flare of anger he feels towards Rachel.  This isn’t a normal situation by anyone’s standards.  And right now his focus is Danny. 

Planting himself in front of Danny to stop him pacing, he reaches out with one arm.  For a second Danny hesitates.  Then he takes a step forward, another one, and he’s in Steve’s arms.

Steve pulls him in further, splaying his fingers across Danny’s back.  Danny’s arms hang loosely at his side as he slumps forward then staggers, forcing Steve to take his weight.

“Sorry,” he mumbles into Steve’s shoulder, trying to right himself.

Steve squeezes gently.  “Whatever you need, Danny.  It’s okay.” 

They stand, wrapped together.  Time passes.  Eventually Danny pulls away.  He rubs at his face with the palms of his hands.

“Can I crash here?  I promised Grace I’d see her at breakfast but I’m beat.  I’ll take the couch, you—”

Steve shakes his head.  There’s no way that’s gonna happen.  He’s noticed the way Danny’s trying not to wince every time he moves.  “You’re smelling a little ripe there.  How about a shower and then we’ll find you a bed.”

Danny shifts in his arm to meet his eyes.  Steve waits, his expression open.  This isn’t the first time they’ve been here.  He knows Danny’s reading between the lines.

Danny swallows, licks his lips.  “You sure?”

Steve hums his agreement, pulling away long enough to lock the front door and set the alarm.  Then he settles his arm across Danny’s shoulders and steers him towards the stairs.  His heart skips a beat when Danny wraps his arm around his waist.  Slowly they make their way to his bedroom.

Danny zeros in on the bed as soon as he sees it.  He sits down hard, sinking down into the mattress.   Eyes half-closed, he’s swaying.

Steve considers skipping the shower; Danny’s half way to sleep anyway.  Then Danny’s head jerks up, his eyes darting everywhere.  “Shower.  Right,” he mutters as if re-joining a conversation half-way through.

“Gimme a second,” Steve says, resting a hand on Danny’s shoulder to back up his instruction. 

Heading into the bathroom he turns on the shower, lets it run for a while.  Warm water not’s an issue this time of night; sticking his hand in the water he nods his head.  Grabbing clean towels out of the bathroom cabinet, he drops on the floor by the shower booth.  Then he goes to get Danny.

Danny blinks up at him blearily.  It’s obvious it’s taking everything he’s got to stay awake.

Steve knows that look; he feels the same.  Heart clenching with sympathy, he gently tugs Danny to his feet.  “Come on sleepy head.”

The bathroom’s filling with steam.  It’s turned the temperature tropical, a stark contrast to the storm outside.  “Just leave me here,” Danny sighs appreciatively as he sits on the closed toilet seat.  “Come get me in the morning.”

“Wimp,” Steve chides, softening his tone with a smile.  When Danny weakly smiles back at him he takes that as sign to continue.  “There you go,” he soothes quietly, sliding Danny’s tee over his head.  Danny’s muscles are spasming under his hands as he works.  As the tee comes away he understands why. 

Subconsciously he’d been aware that Danny had been beaten in prison.  Now he’s being faced with the reality.  Danny’s chest is covered in bruises, a multi-colored road map of everything he’s endured. 

_I should have been there._

He doesn’t realise he’s staring until Danny shifts, then winces.  

Steve loosens his jaw, uncurls his fists.  “Danny…”

Danny’s waves him away as he pushes himself to his feet.  “It’s okay.” 

_No it’s not_ , Steve thinks as he watches Danny try to undo the belt on his jeans.  On the second attempt he manages to stop his fingers trembling long enough to flick the leather out of the buckle.  The buttons are another story.

“Let me,” Steve whispers, slipping his fingers into the waistband and popping the buttons undone.  Maybe it should be embarrassing, something as personal as this.  But Steve can remember the first time Danny had done this for him: not long returned from North Korea, still grieving over Jenna’s death, Danny’s touch had helped ease the pain from Wo Fat’s abuse.

Danny’s jeans slip down over his hips, pooling on top of his shoes.  Steve kneels to undo the laces, bracing himself as Danny leans on his shoulder to keep his balance.  Socks and shorts quickly follow. 

As Danny steps into the shower, Steve gathers up his clothes.  A hand on his shoulder stops him.  When the hand slides lower, tugging insistently, Steve takes the hint.  Shucking his own clothes, he steps in behind Danny.

The water is gloriously warm.

Danny’s shoulder blades brush against his chest.  He wants to touch so badly.  But Danny’s bruises look raw in the harsh bathroom light.  It’s not clear _where_ he can touch.

“Here,” Danny says, as if reading his mind.  He guides Steve’s arms around his chest, links his fingers through Steve’s.  Tilting his head backwards into the shower spray, he closes his eyes and sighs.

Steve wonders if Danny knows what he looks like in that moment.  The way the water is making his hair droop over his forehead, the way it’s accentuating the curve of his cheekbones and chin.  When Danny opens his mouth the licks his lips Steve grabs the shampoo.  Lathering up his hands gives him the distraction he needs.

Danny usually hates anyone touching his hair do.  It’s a lesson Steve had learnt early on in their partnership.  But the first night he’d been the one to offer comfort like this – a few nights after Grace had been kidnapped – he’d learnt something new about his partner.

Sliding his fingers into Danny’s hair, he maps out tiny circles.  Starting at the temples he works his way backwards, methodically covering every inch.  Danny tilts his head as he works to give him better access.  Reaching the base of his skull, Steve applies more pressure, kneading tension out of the neck muscles.  Danny groans, tilts his head back even further.

Steve chuckles.  “You like that, huh?”

Eyes still closed, Danny hums. 

Steve’s always known that Danny’s tactile.  With hindsight he should have guessed he’d love being massaged too.  It’d been a struggle the first time though, to translate Danny’s need into actions.  With Freddie things had always been frantic – a need to relive the itch, the pressure, _fast_. 

Danny’s taught him a lot.

Rinsing his hands, he starts back at the beginning.  Foam swirls around their feet as he squeezes the shampoo out of Danny’s hair.  When finally the water runs clear again, he swaps over to the shower gel.

The first touch on Danny’s skin nearly has him aborting the mission.  Danny’s eyes fly open, his lips twisting in pain.  They both freeze, the intimate atmosphere hanging on a precipice.  Then Danny backs into Steve again like nothing’s happened.

Steve lets out a breath, wills the anger simmering in his heart to subside.  _Danny’s here, he’s safe,_ he reminds himself.  _You didn’t lose him.  Not this time._

Water is getting in his eyes, making them prickle.  He rubs the irritation away.

When he looks down Danny’s head is tilted back again.  He’s watching Steve through half-open eyes.  The trust in them is absolute.  Its humbling.  He’s not sure how he’s supposed to live up to that.

His second attempt with the shower gel is more successful.  He carefully slides his fingers around the worst of the bruising, applies the lightest touch over the bruises he can’t avoid.  They’re everywhere though, he realises, as he works lower.  Danny’s hips, his thighs, the vulnerable soft skin below his belly button.  The bastards hadn’t planned for him to survive in that prison.  Steve’s got no idea how he did.

Straightening up, Steve slips his arms around Danny’s shoulders again, pulling him close.  He watches the foam slide down Danny’s body, the way it flows over the bruised, swollen skin.  Resting his lips on Danny’s hair, he sends up a quick prayer.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he says, turning off the shower.

Danny makes no sign that he’s heard him.  When Steve looks down he realises why.  Danny’s eyes are closed again.  This time he looks like he’s actually sleeping.  A gentle nudge stirs him.  His eyes  flutter half-open. 

“Almost done,” Steve murmurs, wrapping him in warm towels. 

Steve steers him back into the bedroom.  Danny’s pliant, walking like he’s in a trance.  He hums as Steve dries his hair, then pulls a comb through it.  But that’s the only sound he makes.  When Steve holds up a clean tee, one eyebrow raised, Danny shakes his head.  A tap on the leg is enough to get him to bend one knee, then the other, so Steve can get him into a pair a of shorts.   Then Danny pulls the duvet cover back and crawls into bed. 

Within seconds he’s asleep.

Steve watches him as he towels himself dry.  He knows Danny was checked out at the hospital but he still finds himself running through military field medicine 101.  He listens to Danny’s breathing, checks the rate of his inhales and exhales.  He doesn’t sound congested.  There’s no hitch in his breaths, the tell-tale sign of fractured ribs.  His lips are pink, not blue.  The skin under his eyes is bruised but that’s not surprising under the circumstances.  Danny had been communicative – considering his level of exhaustion.

He shakes his head, trying to get his mind off the treadmill it’s trapped on.  He pulls on the tee-shirt Danny rejected, finds himself a clean pair of shorts.  Pausing to set the alarm for the morning he cautiously gets into the other side of the bed.  Stretching out his legs, he slides under the covers.

He watches Danny.  He stares at the ceiling.  He watches Danny again.

He can’t settle.

His body is on full alert. 

The adrenaline that had only been an annoying itch is swarming through his blood stream.  Heart thundering in his ears, he can barely hear the rain outside.  The moment Danny had asked him to talk to Grace keeps replaying in his mind.  Desolation engulfs him: it feels as real now as it did then.

Heaving in air, he shuffles across the bed.  He can feel Danny’s body heat, he’s so close.  Clenching his fist against the urge to touch he listens to the sound of Danny’s breathing.  _He’s alive.  He made it back_ , he tells himself again and again.

_He didn’t leave you._

_He nearly did._ The thought is lose in his mind before he can stop it.  It’s quickly followed by more ‘what-ifs’.  Each one paints a bleaker picture for Gracie, for the family he’s built.

Clamping his lips together, he stares at the ceiling and waits for morning to come.

H50H50H50H50

Time passes.  Eventually exhaustion forces his body to sleep.  When he wakes the rain’s stopped.  Birds are singing outside.  Sunlight is creeping around the curtains.

Danny’s watching him.

Steve doesn’t need to turn his head to confirm that but he does anyway.  Danny stares back.  He looks more dishevelled thanks to a day’s worth of beard growth.  The bruising under his eyes isn’t so pronounced though.  And the deep crease between his brows has almost disappeared.

His hair, however, is a disaster. 

Danny eyes follow his gaze.  Gingerly he touches his head.  “What did you do?”

Steve twitches his lips.  Danny might be sighing but his eyes are laughing, so _alive_.  It’s enough right now, exactly what he needs.  Not that he’d say that out loud.  He flicks a curly strand of hair instead.

Danny bats his hand away.  Movement makes him wince.

Steve frowns, his gaze dropping to Danny’s bruised chest.  Sitting up, he swings his legs out of bed.  “I’ll get you something for that—"

Danny reaches out, stopping him.  “I’m fine.”

Steve forces himself to meet Danny’s gaze.  Danny’s eyes are a deep blue, he notes, swallowing hard.  He can feel his heart rate rising again.  “You need to be back at Rachel’s.”

Crinkles appear around Danny’s eyes as he smiles.  “We’ve got time.”

Steve shakes his head.  He knows what they’re talking about but he _can’t_.  They _shouldn’t._   “Danny—”

“Steve.”

The raw need in Danny’s voice calls to his own anger and frustration.  It draws him back into bed, has him sliding under the sheets to Danny’s side.  “I don’t want to hurt you—”

“You won’t.”  There’s trust in Danny’s eyes.  Total trust.

Steve tries to hold Danny’s gaze but his own eyes betray him.  He finds himself staring at Danny’s chest again.  An invisible hand clenches around his heart, wrenching it. In the half-light of the bedroom the bruising looks much worse than it had in the shower, dark violent scars marring pale skin.

“Sssh.”  Danny’s fingers tapping his chin make him look upwards.  “I’m not gonna break.”

_You nearly did,_ Steve thinks.  Danny frowns.  Steve nudges him back towards the pillows, crowding him with his body.  He doesn’t want to talk.  He can’t talk about it.  All he wants is to _feel_.

As Danny settles back on the pillows, Steve can see it in his eyes too.  The need to touch and be touched.  To feel love without any expectations.  To be taken away from a world – just for a little while – where violence isn’t unusual and human beings have forgotten who they are.

He can give Danny that.

He strips off his tee-shirt and shorts and throws them on the floor.  His body stirs, his cock twitching with interest.  Taking a deep breath he tempers his libido.  This is all about the slow burn, the long game.  They’ll get there eventually.

_They’ve got time._

When their lips touch the tension goes out of both of them.  Steve holds them there, bracing himself over Danny's body, his hands on either side of Danny’s shoulders.  For a moment all he’s aware of is the warmth of Danny’s skin, the scratch of bristles against his chin.  Then Danny cups the back on his neck and pulls him in, deepening the kiss.  He can’t stop the groan that escapes from him.  He feels like he’s been holding it in for days.  _I nearly lost you._

‘I know.’

Steve’s not sure whether Danny actually says the words out loud.  Or maybe he imagined them? But looking into Danny’s eyes almost undoes him: emotion wells in his throat, making it difficult to breathe.

He pulls away, his body trembling.  As he leans down again, dipping in to kiss Danny’s jaw he realises he’s not the only one coming apart.  Danny’s heartbeat is pulsing in the vein in his neck; it’s beating out a violent rhythm beneath his lips.

Danny sighs as Steve works lower, his eyes sliding closed.  His bruised chest rises and falls.  It falters when Steve licks gently around one nipple, then the other.  He jerks as Steve takes a nipple between his lips, and sucks.  Opening one eye he watches Steve for a moment.  Then his hand darts out, pinching Steve’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Steve curses, his hips jerking as lightning shoots down his spine.  Danny hauls him in before he can recover, nipping at Steve’s bottom lip with his teeth.  It triggers something primal in his mind, stoking up his libido, sending blood rushing to his cock.

“Danny.”  He groans Danny’s name more than he actually says it.  He’d promised himself he’d take this slowly, make this good for Danny, the way Danny would for him.  Much more of this and they’ll be at the climax in no time: his body’s really get on board with that idea.

As his belly brushes the front of Danny’s shorts he realises Danny is on board too.

Breathing hard, he kisses his way down Danny’s torso.  Lean muscle and soft skin ripples under his touch.  _Careful_ a voice in his head cautions as he skims around a bruise.  Danny grunts his displeasure as Steve tries to comply: sliding his hands down Steve’s sides his hands come to rest on his ass.

“Don’t you dare,” he breathes into Steve’s ear, making him shiver.  When Danny’s aroused he growls, he fucking _growls._

He’ll do anything for Danny when he sounds like that. 

Blowing softly on Danny’s chest hair gets the reaction he’s after.  Danny squirms, he’s surprisingly ticklish.  When the bulge in Danny’s short twitches, he does it again. The hands on his ass tighten, it’s almost too painful as Danny’s fingers dig in.  _Almost_. 

Biting back a curse he slides further down Danny’s body, the white sheets pooling on his hips as he moves.  Resting his chin on Danny’s belly he looks back up Danny’s body.  Danny’s looking back down his nose at him.  His lips are swollen, his hair sticking out all over the place.  He’s never looked so good.

Steve’s cock responses hungrily.  He grinds it into the sheets, trying to take the edge off.   It’s a wasted effort.  Danny’s grinding his hips too and his cock is trapped against Steve’s chest.

Steve’s slipping down further, beneath the sheets, before he even thinks about it.  Nuzzling at Danny’s shorts he breathes in deeply.  For a second he’s back in California.  Back in a motel, trying to avoid DADT.  Then Danny moans, impatiently.  Everything he’s feeling is captured in that sound.  It’s so much more than California.  He loved Freddie, but he never gave him his heart.

“Babe?”

Cursing himself for killing the moment, he slips his fingers in the waistband of Danny’s shorts.  If Danny’s about to say anything it’s lost as he groans again, deeper this time.  Encouraged, Steve pulls his shorts down.  Danny’s cock swells as he wraps his fingers around it.  A couple of sharp squeezes and Danny’s hips are jerking off the bed.

He’d been aiming to make this last, a celebration of everything they’d nearly lost.  But the grunts coming out of Danny’s mouth are sending sparks down his spine.  Heat’s pooling in his belly, pushing him towards the point of no return.

It’s not enough though.  The itch of anger and frustration is still there.  He needs _more_.

Danny’s cock twitches as Steve seals his lips around the head.  His cheeks hollow as he sucks, hard.  Sliding slowly downwards he applies more pressure on the upward stroke.  Breathing through his nose, he repeats the exercise again.  His world reduces to the warm flesh in his mouth, the way it’s responding to his touch, to his tongue.  The scent of musk and sweat fills his senses.

When Danny tries to squirm away he pins his forearm across his hips.  Danny’s hands tugging at his ears doesn’t distract him either.  He sucks harder, dragging his lips across the sensitive, swollen skin.

Steve opens his eyes, watches, when Danny’s body stiffens.  Danny’s silent when he comes.  His face scrunches then relaxes in quick succession.  His lips part, air escaping his lungs in a soft huff.  Steve swallows, and carries on licking, gently mapping out the shape of Danny’s cock with his tongue.

When Danny tugs at his ears this time, he’s much more insistent.  “Up, up, up,” he chants, breathlessly.

Steve slides back up the bed, emerging from beneath the sheets.  Licking his lips he kisses Danny soundly.  Danny returns the kiss, one hand clutching the back of Steve’s neck.  It’s desperate, messy, both of them trying to say when they can’t express with words. 

_I love you_ , Steve thinks, crowding in closer.  _I can’t do this without you._ When Danny’s arm slips lower, around his shoulders, he groans and burrows in as close as he can.

It’s the last coherent thought Steve has.  His own erection rubs against Danny’s body, reminding him how close to the edge he is.  He’s not left hanging much longer.  Danny grips his cock, pumping him with short, sharp strokes.  His toes curl, sparks shooting up his spine.  Burying his face in Danny’s neck, he tells himself to let go.

He comes with Danny’s name on his lips.

H50h50H50H50

The smell of fresh coffee wakes him.  It’s in a mug, on the bedside table.  Blinking against the daylight – he must have slept – he tries to get his bearings.

He’s naked and he’s still in his bed.  His body is sticky with sweat.  The last thing he can remember is Danny curling around him, his body relaxing into sleep.  Danny’s side of the bed is cold now.  And the bathroom is silent too.  He swallows down the disappointment that threatens to overwhelm him.  He knew Danny needed to leave early.  They’ve never made any promises to each other about what _this_ means. 

At least Danny made him coffee before he left. 

He’s sipping at it, despondently, when a noise makes him look up.  Danny’s standing in the bedroom doorway.  He’s shaved, his hair’s wet and slicked back neatly.  He’s wearing his own clothes again.

Danny smiles at him, a tiny smile, but his eyes are full of warmth. “You slept through the alarm.”

Steve smiles back.  Vaguely he’s aware the relief he’s feeling is broadcasting on his face.  He doesn’t care.  “Someone wore me out.”

Danny rolls his eyes at the implied innuendo.  There’s a pause.  The smile disappears.  “I gotta go,” he says, waving his hand back over his shoulder.  “I told Rachel that I’d be back for—”

“—breakfast.  Yeah, you said.”

They stare at each other, so much still unsaid.  They’ve been here before. They both know what happens next: they go their own ways.  Danny nods.  His lips clamp in a tight line.  He turns to leave.

Steve places his coffee mug on the bedside table.  “I’ll drive you.  I’ll only be—”

“—three minutes,” Danny finishes for him, turning back.  “Yeah, I know,” he adds, tilting his head as he studies Steve.  Whatever he sees must please him; he nods, his lips curling up in a genuine smile.  “I’ll be downstairs, babe.”

Steve throws back the bedsheets.  Danny’s already disappearing back down the hallway.  Hurrying into the bathroom he stands under the shower and switches it on.  The cold water catapults him into wakefulness.  It’s a brand new day, bringing with it a bunch of new challenges for the Head of Five-0. 

He’s under no illusions: this problem with Reyes won’t just go away.  His mother and Joe are up to something, he can feel it in his bones. But he’s got new memories of him and Danny to lean on when things get tough.  And some day maybe – just maybe – they’ll have more than just a few snatched hours together.  That’s what keeps him going - this ideal in his head of what his life _could_ be.

Some day.

 

The End.


End file.
